I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters. I wish I did.

Hermione was wrapping Teddy's present. It was his 13th birthday tomorrow. Harry and Ginny had decided ages ago that they would be hosting the party for him. Andromeda was getting older and Teddy was getting harder to keep up with. It was doubling as a reunion, as if the lot of them didn't get together often enough. That of course never stopped Draco from whining about it every time.

'Looney Lovegood is coming?' he'd all but cried.

'Neville too, yes.' Hermione responded, unbothered as they'd shopped for Teddy's gift.

'Don't tell me their spawn…' ,f

'Yes, Malfoy, their children will be coming as well.' Her eyes had rolled so hard he'd have sworn they were about to fall out of her head.

'Are Rosie and Remus coming too, mummy?' Evander had asked. She tightened her grip on his hand and smiled warmly at him, thanking God his father's attitude hadn't rubbed off on their 4 year old.

'All of your cousins will be there, darling.'

'All of them?' Draco had sounded downright pathetic.

'Teddy is your cousin too, Malfoy.' She reminded him quietly.

The underlying reminder that he didn't have much family left did not go unnoticed. His aunt Andromeda and cousin Teddy were the only blood family he had remaining. Or at least, the only family he acknowledged. Bellatrix was living out the rest of her life in Azkaban, as was his father. His mother was in the wind and no one had seen her in ages.

The Potter-Weasley Clan were his family now as much as that pained him.

She had just tied the bow atop the present when Draco returned home from work.

Theo was already sound asleep. Evander was dozing on the couch in his pajamas, determined to stay awake until his father returned.

He was dirty and shaken in the way that he was after a particularly hard day. He came through the door, dropped his belongings at the threshold and made a beeline for his son on the couch. The boy was a little bleery eyed and disoriented as he was scooped up and smothered against a foul smelling, brown stained shirt.

Hermione nearly protested. She had just bathed the both of them, but she didn't say a word. Instead, worry set in like a black fog in her chest. It'd been a long time since she had seen him this desperate.

Evander didn't complain. He wiggled his little arms out from where they were encompassed by his father's and wrapped them around his neck. Hermione watched Draco's eyes squeeze shut as he dragged in a stuttered breath.

Her blond four year old held his father without a single complaint until,

"Daddy, you're squishing me." His voice came out a little breathless.

"Sorry," Draco's voice was rough. "Theo asleep?" Hermione nodded. Disappointment flashed in his eyes briefly before it disappeared. "I'm going to have a shower." He kissed Evander's head and set him down, ruffling his hair before disappearing up the stairs without another word.

Teddy's gift was wrapped. Dishes were done. Draco's dinner was cold on the table. All that was left was putting Evander to bed and then she would be free to see what was going on.

"Who will be there tomorrow, mummy?" Hermione sighed and eyed him reproachfully as she pulled the sheets back for him to climb under. Theo was out cold in the crib across the room.

"Teddy, Victoire, Dom, and Louis." She began, ticking them off in her head. "Fred and Roxanne," his eyes went wide at the mention of his cousin Fred. "Rosie," she tickled him. He giggled in excitement. Rose was his favorite person in the world. They were best friends. "Remus," when you added the second Potter boy, the three were inseparable. Their parents feared for Hogwarts when those kids came of age. "Lily, Lorcan and Lysander." She finished.

He smiled in anticipation.

"Mum, I can't sleep, I'm too excited." He whisper yelled, even as he yawned.

"Well then, you'll just have to lie here in your bed till morning." She murmured, kissing his forehead and tucking the sheets around him a little tighter. "Goodnight, darling."

"Night mummy," his eyes were closing tight already as she shut the boys' bedroom door.

There was thick steam pouring out from under the bathroom door when she came to their room. It was creeping into their room like a living being and it was unsettling.

"Draco," she tapped gently on the door. "Are you alright?" no answer. The sound of the shower echoing in their large en suite was drowning out whatever she might have been able to hear. She tapped again. "Draco, I'm coming in."

Alohomora was mumbled quickly under her breath. The steam rushed out of the room towards her like the breath of an angry dragon, taking her own oxygen with it.

Steam. White. Tile. Vomit. Red. Red. Blood.

Draco.

Her senses were brutally assaulted and overwhelmed as the door swung open.

Draco was hunched into a ball on the shower floor. His bloodied and tattered arm on the floor beside him in a swirling pink puddle of moving water. The shower was still battering his body relentlessly. Blood smeared his body and ran in rivulets guided by the flowing water. His hair was stuck to his forehead. His face was twisted in agony. She couldn't tell what was tears and what was shower but some of it was obviously tears if the blood shot, tortured eyes were anything to go by. She wouldn't have even been able to tell where exactly the blood was coming from had it not been for the sickening mess that used to be his forearm. Hermione watched with growing horror as he harshly scrubbed his already damaged arm with her loofa (that she would certainly be throwing away now).

Between the image in front of her and the putrid smell of vomit trapped in the steam dancing around them, her own stomach was growing weak, endurance diminished by their third child in her belly.

"Draco," her voice came out as barely a whisper, full of the pain radiating from her broken husband. A sharp thud echoed through the room as his head fell back against the tile of the large shower. Her feet moved before she even made the conscious decision to go to him. She climbed into the shower fully clothed and sank to her knees in front of him. She flinched at the first contact of scalding water on her skin but then found herself distracted again.

"Draco, what have you done?" Her careful fingers cradled his arm and brought it up closer for her to get a look at the damage. He ripped his arm out of her hands before she could stop him.

"Fuck off, Granger." He croaked. She arched an eyebrow at him and huffed in anguished exasperation.

"What is wrong with you?" she was once again examining the damage. Blood. So much blood. The red was even harsher against the pale white of his skin. The faded tattoo branded in his arm was split down the middle now by a thick gash, intact skin rubbed raw by his furious efforts. Some skin scrubbed away, thinned and scraped by the rough material. The cut was perfect and precise and bile rose in Hermione's throat. "Priori-"

"Don't," he snapped. "It… it wasn't me." Furious anger blazed in the brown eyes across from him and she caught the flicker of shame before his eyes went hard again.

"What?" she whispered again. His mouth opened and shut a few times before his eyes closed in frustration. "I think I can still salvage this without too much scarring." She muttered, more to herself than him. The water was deafening.

"Don't!" the shout echoed off the walls and lingered in the room like the steam. For a second she feared the boys would wake up.

The surprise in Hermione's eyes was replaced slowly with understanding. "I want it gone." The crack to his voice was out of place next to the cold eyes he watched her with. She saw the emotion though, locked behind grey concrete and it was so heartbreaking, tears welled in Hermione's eyes as well.

She brought one hand from his arm to his cheek and realized with horror that his blood was now a smudged handprint on his face.

"Don't touch me." He snapped. She ignored it. "I don't want this fixed. I don't. This is better than the fucking Mark."

"Even if I could, this cut here is far too deep. You're bleeding too much. It needs to be healed."

"No," he snarled. She sighed and continued studying the various depths of cuts in his arm. "Granger." The desperation was seeping through to his voice.

"You know I can't leave this like this, Draco."

"Please." He said again, his face crumbled, the wall fell from his eyes and the agony took Hermione's breath away. She knew it was likely manipulation that he let her see it but the fact that it was there at all was painful.

"Draco…"

"You don't understand. The look on peoples faces…" he scowled. "If my robes move or it's hot and I forget and roll my bloody sleeves," he scoffed derisively and Hermione stared at his mutilated arm. "Its disgusting. It's a reminder of every fucking thing I've ever done wrong in my life. It's a reminder that no matter what I do I'll never live those choices down. I deserve to serve out the rest of my life in Azkaban, certainly not here with you. I just want it gone."

"What happened?"

He looked away.

It had been a while since she had seen him like this. So broken and torn apart by PTSD, shame and guilt.

"Hey," she said gently, reaching for his chin and holding it firmly between her fingers to turn his head towards her. He took a deep breath and she waited patiently.

"We got intel regarding an abandoned Death Eater safe house." He began. "Potter put a new recruit on it with me supervising. It was supposed to be empty, just training for the recruit really. He got cocky, too confident. Waltzed in there like he owned the bloody place." He spat. Hermione was still eyeing the wound nervously like he would bleed out in the time it took him to tell this story.

"It wasn't empty." She surmised.

"Well done, E for Effort Ms. Granger." He drawled. She pursed her lips at his attitude. "Goyle and Greengrass were holed up there." Her eyes widened almost comically. "Yes, that Goyle and Greengrass." She, for once, kept her mouth shut. "The recruit panicked and ran for it when he saw two real life Death Eaters standing in front of him." Draco's tone was one of absolute disgust and mocking. "As you can imagine, they were all too excited to have the Blood Traitor to themselves. I'm not entirely sure why they didn't kill me, to be honest. Beat me senseless and when I came to they were gone."

"Were you…" she trailed off, staring with rekindled horror at his arm.

"Awake? Yes." His lips pressed into a thin line.

Will your father hear about this too, Blood Traitor?

Give your Mudblood Whore our best.

When I get my hands on those boys of yours I'll make sure they know all about their blood-scum parents. Do they know that Dear Old Dad's a Death Eater?

Merlin, he'd never been so angry in his life.

No matter what he did, he would never escape the sins of his past. Never.

"I can't leave it like this. You're losing blood." She repeated apologetically. "What do you need?" she was allowing shower water to pool in her cupped palm as she tipped it over the bloody mess in her hand. "Do you want me to talk to you or should I just stun you and get this over with?" her tone was gentle but allowed no room for argument.

"Talk." He swallowed hard and turned his face back towards the ceiling.

"Very well. Accio dittany," the bottle flew to her as she set her wand just out of Malfoy's reach. She reached for his as well and put it away.

"What's that about?" he asked defensively. She sighed.

"You're not exactly rational at the moment." Her voice was a little pleading as she silently begged him to understand. The growing self-deprecation in his eyes said that he didn't.

She moved forward a little more until she had wedged her way between his legs and the tile was digging into her knees. She barely felt it as she studied and breathed and tried to calm herself and the slight shaking in her hands.

"Alright there, Granger?" he sighed as his tipped his head back against the shower wall again.

"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

He opened one eye and gave her a dry look before shutting it again.

"Just get on with it."

She took a deep breath, eyes shut, and opened them with new determination and steady hands.

"Have you given any thought to this one's name?" she asked airily. He scoffed.

"Been a little busy, Granger."

Hermione settled his arm between her thighs and wrapped her hand around the back of his elbow to hold the limb in place. She ignored his sharp intake of breath and held the vial of dittany in the other hand, using her teeth to remove the stopper.

"No excuse, Malfoy." She teased back. While her voice was light, her eyes were heavy as she held his gaze. She kissed him briefly and breathed shakily as he pressed his forehead to hers. "I've been thinking Athena," she said, casual words not matching her tone as she tipped the vial over his arm.

"Terrible name," he groaned, any other words dying quickly in his throat as he groaned, arcing his back. Hermione flinched as his head slammed against the shower wall again with an echoing crack. If he wasn't already concussed, he was about to be.

Green smoke billowed up from the arm as it healed. "Fuck," he hissed.

"Almost done, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She whispered. His chest was rising and falling so quickly that she feared he was going to pass out. "Malfoy, breathe. Draco." She snapped.

She stopped and checked the wound to see the skin knitting back together. The bleeding had stopped and that would have to do for now. She replaced the stopper and set the bottle aside, straddling him and cupping his face in her hands. His blood was everywhere and she couldn't worry about that now.

"Shh," he hated being coddled. He would make her regret this, she knew. She just didn't care. "Breathe," she whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. His hands came up and fisted in her soaked shirt at her sides as the shower water rained down and his breathing continued erratically, his heart rate racing.

He was having a panic attack. That much was becoming glaringly obvious.

"Fuck," he panted, eyes squeezed shut. His fingers were hurting her ribcage.

"You're not what you think you are." She said fervently. "Look at me, Malfoy. Breathe." The order was clear in her tone. His face was held tightly between her hands, forcing him to face her even if his eyes were shut. "You have more than proved yourself. You are not defined by your actions as a child. Vol-"

He sucked air in through his teeth.

Fear of the name-

"He ordered you. Dumbledore," he flinched. "Dumbledore," she continued more gently. "believed in you. Snape believed in you. I believe in you. Your boys believe in you. You're a good man. You're good. Do you understand? Those sick excuses for human beings that forced that life on you did this, not you. You are more than your family. You're good. You're good."

Tears squeezed out from under his eyelids as his erratic breathing remained steady in its panic, neither improving, nor worsening. His forehead tilting against hers as he clutched at her. She held him tightly, grounded him as best she could. "Breathe," came the quiet reminder. His body shuddered as he sucked in oxygen. "Breathe," once he forced it back out. "Breathe," when his hands twitched against her ribs, digging in harder than before like she would evaporate. "Not going anywhere, Draco. Breathe."

She kissed him harder once he had his breathing more under control. He kissed her back, wet with blood, tears and shower water.

He tasted like copper and bile but he was still him. She wanted so badly for him to see himself the way she did.

He was still trembling but he was inhaling and exhaling now, shaky but with a rhythm. Desperate pants against her mouth like the oxygen stolen from her lungs was what kept him alive. He let one hand slide around her back until his arm was tight around her torso, tugging her body firmly against his. Despite his best efforts, she caught the stiffening of his body and muffled grunt when her stomach collided with his abdomen. Hermione pulled back and let her hands fall from his face to his hips where the hem of his crimson stained undershirt clung to his bones.

Her mouth opened and he cut her off with a cautionary "Granger". She kissed him gently, a light distraction as she reached behind her for her wand, casting a quick diagnostic spell over him as he leaned into her lips. He snarled at her as he felt the warmth of the magic spread through him.

"What the fuck Granger?" And then he was quickly lifting her off his lap and setting her gently on the tile floor of the shower as he got to his feet, renewed anger rolling off of him in dark waves.

"Draco," she sighed. He looked like a scene out of one of her father's horror movies with wet blood streaking down his face as the shower water washed it away. The black, blue, purple and green bruising was covering fractured ribs and a bruised kidney according to the diagnostics. "Just let me-" she got to her feet and he was suddenly in her face.

"Shut up," and then one pale hand was cradling the back of her head, the other gripping her hip, cushioning her body as he shoved her up against the shower wall, devouring her mouth with his. He was always such a damn contradiction.

"You need to- mmf." She gasped as he bit her lip.

"You're done giving orders, Granger." The deep rasp of his voice coursed through her blood and she twitched against him. She could feel his smirk against her ear.

She stared up at him, his pupils blown wide, water pouring down around him, white blonde hair stuck to his forehead, blood smeared everywhere. He was dangerous and dark and broken and beautiful-

And sliding his hands down her back, bending enough to hitch her legs up. The way he lifted her, pinning her between his body and the wall was entirely effortless and her legs wrapped around his like it was muscle memory.

"Shirt," he snapped. Holding her tightly enough that she was able to lean back and toss her shirt to the shower floor without wavering. She narrowed her eyes at the pained tightening in the corners of his. Her mouth was full of him again before she could comment. He was bleeding again, she knew it without looking. He was doing a very good job of making her forget, distracting her from putting him back together. It was entirely intentional, she knew. But his teeth sinking into her breast, large hand resting on her throat in such an overt show of possession, made her forget what it was that she knew.

There was no pressure behind the hand on her neck. There never was. It was just there. Huge, pale, stark and swallowing her fragile, tan skin. His thumb absently caressed her pulse point as he mouthed at her, sucking angry purple marks into her skin.

Mine.

She was the one breathing hard now, head tipped back against the tile in an ironic role reversal. His hands were rough against her back while her fingers wove into his hair, using the tight grip on the blond strands to keep him close to her. He chuckled darkly, shifting his grip a bit as he turned off the shower, used her body to push open the shower door and made his way to their bed before unceremoniously dumping her on to it. She groaned a little at the thought of their bodies, wet with blood and water and dirt staining their comforter. She noted with mild hysteria that with the added pop of red, their green and gold sheets would resemble Christmas decorations.

"That's what magic is for, Granger." he read her mind the minute she touched the mattress and promptly returned to distracting her from protesting. She stared at him, reaching up to stroke his cheek again. The coldness in his eyes flickered and then returned with a vengeance. His lip curled with irritation and he nipped at her hand, teeth sinking into the meat between her thumb and forefinger. She whimpered and he swallowed the sound, sliding his tongue along hers.

She arched up, forcing her hips up into his. His gravelly moan broke down what remaining determination she had to keep his movements minimal. She sighed and he felt her give in. His sly smirk frustrated her enough that she reached up and clawed her nails down his shoulders, ripping her mouth away from his and latching onto his neck, his forehead falling to rest on her clavicle.

He was propped up on his palms, hovering above her and she tried not to think about the pain it must have sent radiating up his arms and through his ribs.

Then he pulled away entirely, sitting back. An unbidden whine of disappointment came from Hermione. His dark chuckle seemed to echo, and his hand ran along her sternum, down her stomach. She watched, love fluttering in her chest as his long fingers lingered on the barely there swell between her hips. He blinked and the softness was gone, and she gasped as he roughly tugged her pajama bottoms down, chucking them to the floor with a wet thud. He wasted no time peeling the soaked shirt and pants off of his own body before he was on her again.

The thrust of his hips came with little else in the way of warning or preparation and she yelped in surprise, clinging to him desperately as he filled her. He paused for a moment, letting her breathe before he proceeded with something that bordered on violent desperation. Hermione bit her lip, hard enough that a mildly metallic taste stung her tongue. His fringe was blocking his eyes from view and she reached up without thinking, tangled one hand in the white hair at the base of his skull while the other combed it back, out of his face. His hips stuttered and he growled with a mix of frustration and pain, both born of guilt.

He was using her. They both knew it. It wasn't meant to be enjoyable for her. There was guilt that blazed like fire in his eyes, hot enough that for a brief moment, Hermione was concerned he'd go up in flames.

"Hey," she whispered. "Look. Look at me." He froze. "It's okay. Take what you need. It's okay." She punctuated the promise with a bruising kiss against his lips, pulling back to look him in the eyes. He blinked, dragging a few harsh breaths into his lungs before something snapped in his eyes. Whatever remained was wild and animalistic. The need to make him feel better was nearly suffocating her, enough that if he wouldn't let her heal him, she would let him have this. He wouldn't hurt her, of that she was absolutely certain, even if he wasn't always.

Her hands dropped away from his face and twisted into the pillows above her head as he roughly drove into her over and over again. One hand was digging shallow bruises into her hip while the other suspended him above her. His eyes were closed as he panted and instead of focusing on the feeling of him sliding against her walls she focused on him. On the lines of anguish carved into his face. On the thousands of scars littering his chest. Some she recognized like those from the sectumsempra curse all those years ago. Some looked familiar, shadows of a whip that echoed on her own back. There were indents of snake teeth imbedded in his shoulder, scattered like tiny constellations, from a few too many childhood slip-ups in his father's presence.

Even in all his war worn brokenness, he was beautiful. The expression on his face and the rhythm of his hips changed suddenly. His arm buckled and he was flush against her, head against her shoulder as his hips stuttered and sped up. Erratic and rhythmless.

Hermione reached up, tangling her fingers tightly in his hair, tugging enough that his neck was exposed and pressed her mouth against the spot just below his ear. The sound that pulled from his chest was deep and it vibrated through her entire body, uncharacteristically needy enough that her tongue darted out to wet the same spot.

"Draco," she murmured his name against his ear, and he was done. His body went stiff and after a few moments he collapsed at her side, body half draped over hers. Hermione's other hand finally released the abused pillow and splayed against his back, covering as much surface area as was possible and she held him. His face was tucked into her neck and she continued stroking his hair until the trembling stopped and his breathing evened out.

Please review and let me know if you're interested in a continuation!